Page 79 of Jenna's Protector

“You’re safe now.” I stroke her hair, trying to calm her, but words offer only so much comfort.

The next morning. I kiss her forehead and gently extricate myself from her grasp, leaving a note on the nightstand before heading out.

Back at Guardian HRS, my determination is renewed. I comb through every piece of information. Hours pass, and I finally stumble upon something—a tiny discrepancy, easily overlooked. A delivery of flooring materials for an addition to the estate.

I dig deeper, tracing the company to its source. It’s a shell, of course, but every shell has an origin. I follow the paper trail, each step taking me deeper into the labyrinth of false leads and useless data.

I keep going, however, pulling threads that lead me through a tangled web of front companies and dummy corporations. It’s tedious, frustrating work, but I refuse to give up.

And then, buried under layers of obfuscation, I find it—the banker who financed the construction. Marcus Levinson, of Levinson & Associates. His name is the key that unlocks the next part of the puzzle. I follow the money, each transaction pulling back another layer of the veil.

Blue Ridge Holdings, LLC. The official owner of the estate.

I lean back in my chair, the pieces finally fitting together. Now, I have a lead—an address, a name, a direction. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

The sense of victory is tempered by the knowledge that this is just one step in a long journey. I glance at my phone, where a picture of Jenna smiles at me. Her nightmares might be relentless, but so is my determination to bring those responsible to justice.

It’s not a smoking gun, but it’s a start. I feel we’re closer now, but I also know the closer we get, the higher the stakes become.

My eyes blur from staring at screens and shuffling through papers. The hours melt away, each one blending into the next. My phone buzzes with a message from Jenna. Just a simple‘I miss you,’but it warms me from the inside out.

I glance at the time and curse under my breath. I’m late once again. This case consumes me, and the hours fly by without me realizing it. Guilt gnaws at me as I try to call her back, but it goes straight to voicemail.

I send Jenna a text, letting her know I’ll be late.

The trip back is a beast. The traffic is a snarl, and the minutes tick by with agonizing slowness. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, impatience bubbling under my skin.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Jenna

My last customerlingers well past closing time. Thirty minutes pass, and Walt finally tells him it’s time to pack things up and leave. Walt’s imposing presence and stern tone make the customer uncomfortable.

Sensing the tension, I quickly fill a to-go cup and hand it to my customer with a smile and apology, hoping to smooth things over and ease some of Walt’s intensity.

Fortunately, my tactic works, and my customer leaves after giving me a pretty nice tip. Once he’s gone, however, I let out a heavy sigh.

My shoulders sag with exhaustion and the lingering unease that has become my constant companion. At least that one stranger who gave me the creeps is no longer in town. He must have been just a regular guy in town for some conference.

Totally innocent.

I move through the familiar motions of closing up the café, wiping down tables, and switching off lights, but my mind is far away, tangled in the nightmares that seem to plague me.

As I’m finishing up, my phone buzzes. It’s Carter letting me know he’s running late. I send a quick reply, telling him I miss him.

I glance over at Walt, who stands by the door, his keen eyesscanning the street outside. He’s supposed to be on a date with Malia tonight, but our last customer’s extended stay made him late.

I bite my lip, torn. I don’t want to ruin his night, not when he finally asked Malia out. They’ve been dancing around each other for days, their simmering attraction clear in every glance, every smile, and every lingering touch.

Making a decision, I walk over to where Walt stands. His brow furrows in concern as he looks down at me.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m just about done here. You don’t have to wait.” I manage a small smile.

“Not leaving you alone, sweetie.” He hesitates, glancing at his watch and then back at me. “I don’t mind walking you home.”

“You don’t have to do that. You should go. Have a great time with Malia.” I appreciate his concern, but it’s clear how much he wants to be with her.